


Aftermath

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 15:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: This story happens in the aftermath of Mary's path of destruction. If you love Mary, don't read this. If mentioning of depression, binge drinking or such things do trigger you, please don't read this.





	1. Chapter One

John buried his fingers into his now rather longish blond-grey hair. He scratched his fingernails over his scalp until it bled. Drops ran over his head and soaked his hair, made it wet. His eyes were closed and his head rested in his hands. His elbows were firmly placed on his thighs.  
He sat on his armchair in Baker Street. Sherlock moved around him very carefully. And instead of trying to help him clean his head and face he just placed a wet towel by his side. He knew better by now.  
John didn’t speak or didn’t move too much. He hadn’t spoken to him since the aquarium where Mary had died. Mary had been shot by the old secretary who had betrayed them all. Mary had caught the bullet that was meant for Sherlock. Sherlock couldn't have saved her; she had been to quick.  
John kept telling him it was his fault she was dead. Lestrade had uselessly tried to intervene but John yelled him down screaming something about Sherlock having made a vow. Soon they all gave up.  
At last they managed to bring him here. Sally even offered to get Rosamund. But then there was another dead body and Lestrade took over sending her to the crime scene.  
He put the baby down on a blanket in the living-room. She knew this place already and felt good in here. Sherlock had even provided some toys. Well, what you call toys. Rosamund had taken over the skull and no one had stopped her.  
Since Lestrade had put down the baby John hadn’t even looked in her direction. Sherlock had taken over and prepared a bottle for her. Lestrade was fairly surprised when he picked her up and placed her against his chest. He had a towel over his mega-expensive suit-jacket and fed her. He motioned for Greg to sit down with him on the sofa and he did.  
“We have to do something. He has to wake up.” Lestrade whispered.  
“What do you suggest? Throw her at him? Hit him?” Sherlock wondered feeding the baby who tried to grab his hand and fingers. A small smile was on his face.  
“Perhaps he just needs some time? We should give him time.” Lestrade looked at John who still hadn’t moved.  
“He needs something to do. We should let him kill the beastly woman; it might help. I’ll talk to Myc.” Sherlock placed the empty bottle on the table and gently patted her back.  
“What? No! It’s …” They looked at each other.  
“It’s what? Illegal? Please, Lestrade!” Sherlock chided and the baby burped on his jacket. He sighed because the towel had moved and he hadn’t noticed.  
“Could you please hold her for a second?” He held her up for Greg to take and he took her into his arms with a broad smile on his face. She happily gurgled up at him and he dangled his handcuffs over her head like a toy hanging from the ceiling. He grinned like mad while he was clinking them together.  
In the meantime, Sherlock passed by John who didn’t react at all. If he would only shout at him, hit or kick him, shove him around like he always did when he lost his temper with him. But it was just a shell on John’s armchair. A soulless shell. A zombie. Sherlock shuddered.  
He disappeared into his bedroom and dropped his jacket. He saw that his shirt was dirty, too. Sighing he changed into something comfy and returned.  
He found Greg standing and staring at John. Sherlock’s eyes wandered over and then widened. John had moved over to their little bar by the window and opened a bottle. He was just drinking some more and was walking to the stairs into his old room. Sherlock looked at Greg and he felt helpless.  
“John, don’t do this, please?” Greg at least tried to stop him but John didn’t listen. He just walked away and the door banged close behind him.  
Sherlock worried his lips.  
“Perhaps he needs this. It’s a family thing.” He muttered and fell on the sofa. Greg sat down again, too.  
“Please give her to me, Greg.” He handed her over and she clung to the metal. Both men fondly grinned.  
“He will be having a hellish hang-over by tomorrow.” Greg quietly said getting closer to Sherlock and leaning over Rosamund to tickle her.  
“I will bring him some aspirin and a bucket later when he is out.” Both men stared at the baby.  
“It’s not your fault, Sherlock.” Greg said placing his hand on his arm now.  
“I made a vow, Greg. I failed him. I promised to protect both Mary and the baby. I should have taken the bullet. It was meant for me.”  
“She jumped in the way. You couldn’t have done anything.”  
“I somehow believe it’s my fault. I always wished she was gone so I could have John back. I wanted John only for myself. And now she is dead and he is being left behind with a baby.”  
“Deep down John knows. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stayed here. He would have moved into a hotel or even back into their place. But if he wouldn’t like you close by now, he never would be here or let you take care of his baby.”  
“You are probably right.” Sherlock sighed and stood.  
“Would you like dinner and a drink? I’d appreciate you staying for a bit if you don’t mind?” Sherlock asked and surprised Greg. But he nodded very quickly.  
“Yes, absolutely. I can always take a cab.” Sherlock ordered some Chinese take-away and motioned for Greg to pour them drinks. He stood and did just that.  
They heard nothing from upstairs and Greg watched Sherlock put John’s food into the fridge. They sipped their wine and both men looked at Rosamund.  
“I don’t know where to put her. She has no bed in 221B.” Sherlock suddenly said out of the blue.  
“Take her into bed with you, Sherlock. She will be just fine.” Sherlock looked at him.  
“Really? I thought it might be a bit inappropriate?” Greg smiled and shook his head.  
“No, not at all. She will be safe with you in there.”  
“But what if I roll around and crash her?” Sherlock’s eyes widened while he was calculating all the disasters possible.  
“Would you rather like her to stay with a drunken father?” Sherlock slowly shook his head.  
“No, Greg, I wouldn’t.” Suddenly it knocked quietly on the door.  
“Come in, Mrs Hudson.” She entered the flat carrying some baby-blankets and stuff.  
“Oh, you are here, too, Detective Inspector. That’s fine.” She placed everything on the coffee-table and then gently touched Sherlock’s hair. Then her eyes trailed upstairs but no one said a word. She knew anyway.  
Right after she had left it knocked again and Sherlock raised his brow.  
“Fuck off!” He swore quietly but Mycroft entered anyway.  
“Sherlock, please.” Then he looked at Lestrade and suddenly his whole expression and stance changed. Sherlock raised a brow.  
“Mr Holmes.” Greg nodded at him not noticing anything. Slowly Mycroft came closer looking at the three of them. Then he looked upstairs.  
“What did he do? What did you let him do?” He looked at his brother but Sherlock didn’t answer. Instead he moved his fingers over Rosamunde’s body.  
“John didn’t talk. He just scratched his head bloody. He took a bottle from the bar and left for his room upstairs. He didn’t even once hold his baby. It is horrible.” Greg shook his head.  
“He thinks it is your fault, isn’t he?” Mycroft asked and looked at his younger brother.  
“Yes, he does. And he is right.” Both Greg and Mycroft shook their heads.  
“No, he isn’t and you know it. He is just sad. He is upset and angry. He will see the truth soon.” Mycroft seriously told Sherlock.  
“Sherlock suggested letting John kill the beastly woman.” Greg suddenly told Mycroft whose face showed a wicked expression for just a second. But Greg saw it.  
“That could be arranged.” Mycroft’s eyes moved between Greg and Sherlock and then over to the kitchen. Sherlock deeply sighed.  
“Greg, please take Rosamund for a bit. My brother needs to be fed, too.” Greg took her and leaned back into the sofa holding her. A fond smile appeared on Mycroft’s face watching Greg holding and talking to her.  
Sherlock just shook his head and took the food meant for John out of the fridge. He wouldn’t eat it anyway. He put everything in a pan and heated it up for him. He even poured him a drink.  
In the meantime, Mycroft had shed both his coat and suit-jacket and placed his umbrella on the hardwood. He sat by Greg’s side and his arm was behind him on the sofa. Slowly he crept closer. Greg wasn’t aware of that. Sherlock watched everything just shaking his head.  
He waited exactly for the moment when Mycroft’s long nose was almost touching Greg’s head to announce that his meal was ready. Greg moved as anticipated and bumped into his brother’s face. Greg blushed. Mycroft moved away clearing his throat. He smiled up at Sherlock when he was given his plate.  
“Thank you so much, brother-dear.” Sherlock smiled, too.  
“You are welcome, brother-mine.” Greg was still looking between them and Rosamund was making unhappy noises because no one concentrated on her. It made Sherlock reach out for her and Greg handed her over.  
“She should sleep now. Just place her on some blankets on the floor and take her with you later.” Greg said. Sherlock thoughtfully looked but finally did exactly that. Rosamund fell asleep at once. She was resting on her front and with her arse up. The three men all looked at her and smiled.  
Mycroft devoured the food while Greg and Sherlock had some wine. From upstairs still came no noise at all.  
When Greg stood to get more wine, Mycroft just held out his plate for him to take into the dishwasher. Greg did just that not wondering at all. He was used to Sherlock’s odd and sometimes rude behaviour. He didn’t question Mycroft’s.  
They were all sipping their wine very quietly for a while.  
“So, what will be happening to that woman that I am not supposed to know about?” Greg asked.  
“John will kill her.” Sherlock said. Greg looked a bit shocked again and his eyes wandered over to Mycroft.  
“Yes, maybe I’ll let him. It might help.” Mycroft said thoughtfully.  
“But …” Greg said.  
“Never mind, Inspector. You don’t have to worry because you haven’t heard anything, have you?” Mycroft stared at him making him swallow.  
“Of course not. I am used to hearing nothing with you around. Sir. Especially not my correct title.” He raised his brow sounding a bit cocky. Mycroft raised his brows.  
“Apologies, Detective Inspector. We might need to talk about it though. Perhaps you can arrange to come over into my club tomorrow?” Mycroft asked with an absolutely innocent voice.  
“Sure, I can do that. When would you like me to come over then?” Greg asked.  
“We could have lunch together. So, what about noon? I have you picked up from the Yard.” Greg nodded.  
“OK, I’ll be ready then.” Sherlock had to grin mind the circumstances. Suddenly they heard a loud thump from upstairs and a faint groan. Sherlock was the quickest. He was up and on the stairs in a swift motion pointing his finger at Mycroft.  
“Look after Rosamund, Myc.” He just nodded and Greg followed Sherlock upstairs. He ripped open John’s door. He was on the floor and tried to get up. He was totally drunk and wasn’t able to coordinate his limbs. He kept muttering things they weren’t able to understand.  
Greg saw emotions flicker over Sherlock’s face. At the end he looked just angry, beyond angry.  
“Stay with him. I’ll be right back.” He told Greg who looked between him and John.  
“What do …” But Sherlock just stormed downstairs again taking the bucket with him. He looked at John and crouched by his side.  
“John? Can you hear me?” Obviously, John couldn’t because he didn’t react. Then Sherlock stormed back inside John’s old room carrying the bucket filled with water. He stood over John and looked at Greg.  
“Step aside, Greg.” Greg saw it coming and quickly moved away. Then Sherlock just poured the cold water over John. Both Greg and Sherlock looked at John who was soaked to the bone and still on the ground. But now he had stopped muttering and was rather tense. Only after a few seconds he looked up. His eyes met Sherlock’s and Sherlock’s slanted.  
“R u innshaene?” He barely got out the words and tried to get up. When this didn’t work, he tried to kick and lash out but Sherlock just made a step back.  
“I will drag you under the shower if needed. Your daughter is downstairs, John. Get a grip on yourself!” He left the room and stormed downstairs.  
John fell back and closed his eyes. Greg was a bit clueless and had no idea what to do now. After some minutes in which John did nothing he crouched by his side and tried to make him get up.  
“John, please. Don’t do this to us now?”  
“Go ‘way …” He slurred and tried to punch him. Greg sighed and dragged him to his feet. Then he pushed him on his bed and pulled off his shoes, socks and trousers. He also managed to get the shirt off of him but he had to tear it off because John’s arms were in the way. He didn’t want to be touched or even undressed but Greg didn’t care. He dropped everything on the ground and finally rolled him on his side. He pulled up the blanket to cover John’s shivering body. He placed the bucket by the bed and left. He even closed the door.  
And only after his footsteps retreated John broke down and cried his heart out.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is dealing with his drinking-problem and his depression. He is also dealing with Sherlock. What will be the outcome?

Downstairs again Sherlock took his time and watched his brother with Rosamund. Mycroft was absolutely unaware of Sherlock standing so close to him. Strangely he felt safe in 221B.  
He gently touched Rosamund with his fingertips and she slept in his arm. A smile curved Sherlock’s lips upwards and he carefully sat down on the armrest by his brother’s side.  
“You are doing fine with her. I am surprised.” Mycroft smiled and sighed.  
“Well, she didn’t puke on my suit, did she?” Both men grinned.  
“Not yet.” They looked at each other until Mycroft spoke again.  
“You know, I used to hold you when you were a baby. I was always scared to death I could drop you and damage your little head.”  
“Well, perhaps you did and that explains it all?” Mycroft snorted.  
“I did not. I loved you. You were a wonder to me. So tiny.” He looked up and met Sherlock’s eyes.  
“I still love you.” Sherlock quickly looked away. He didn’t return the affection being shown but he touched his face when passing by to get more wine. And it was enough for Mycroft. It was more than he had gotten in the last years combined from his baby-brother.  
Greg returned from upstairs and his eyes lingered on Mycroft holding the baby. He smiled. He liked the sight and he looked forward to their lunch-date. He felt himself blush when thinking that word. Stupid him. He chewed on his lips not looking at Mycroft who in return had watched him.  
Sherlock came back with more to drink. At first Greg wanted to deny but then settled again on the sofa because Sherlock took the closest armchair smirking at him. Mycroft kept holding Rosamund. They sipped their wine in silence until Greg checked the time.  
“It’s bloody late. I’ll go and find a cab. Sorry, Sherlock, Mr Holmes.” He stood but Mycroft stopped him after having received a glaring look from Sherlock.  
“Don’t bother. I can take you home in my car.” He offered with a nice smile.  
“But you can’t drive at all.” Greg pointed out.  
“No, but my driver can.” He nonchalantly shrugged and Sherlock took the baby from him. He watched them leave together.  
He took Rosamund into the bathroom with him because he wasn’t feeling good placing her on the blanket alone. Now she slept on the rug in front of the tub while he brushed his teeth and went through his bathroom-routine. Afterwards he applied a new diaper and she didn’t even wake. He carefully placed her by his side on his mattress and built a wall from pillows and blankets around her.  
Amazingly he fell asleep quickly listening to her small noises and the wonderful baby-smell.  
***  
John wasn’t able to sleep at all. He turned around in bed and suffered from nausea and headaches. But he didn’t get up to find some aspirin or to cool his head with a wash-cloth. It was as he wished for the pain being present, as some sort of punishment.  
He felt ashamed and thought of his drunken and violent father. He also thought about Harry. He wasn’t like them, was he? He couldn’t be, could he?  
He covered his eyes with his arm. He so wanted to be the good father his own had never been. And what was happening now? He wasn’t able to manage his life or what was left of it. He even accused Sherlock of having broken his vow. And he knew by heart that he hadn’t.  
When morning broke, he slowly got up and took the bucket. He quietly walked downstairs and looked around. He saw the remnants of yesterday evening. He remembered having spoken to Greg or more Greg having spoken to him. He also very clearly remembered a very angry Sherlock.  
He showered for quite some time to wake up. He dressed into his comfy clothes. His stomach rumbled and demanded something to eat. But he was careful and only brewed tea and had some buttered toast. But the nausea was gone.  
Finally, he dared and quietly opened the door to Sherlock’s bedroom. He found him nested in his bed together with Rosamund. It was beautiful, the sight was endearing, and it made him smile.  
His baby was already awake and turned her head into his direction. She started to make noises. She was probably hungry and her diaper would be dirty. Sherlock started to stir and rolled on his side. John lowered his hands and wanted to pick her up but suddenly Sherlock was awake and half over her. His hand clutched his arm before he fully recognised him. He let go at once and sat against the headrest letting him pick her up.  
“Are you sure you are up to it?” He stared at his flatmate like he was an intruder ready to be killed.  
“I am very sorry, Sherlock. I don’t know what got into me. Please, let me take care of her and I will talk to you right after.” Sherlock just nodded and disappeared into the bath. John changed Rosamund on her blanket in the living-room where also all the baby-stuff was placed. He prepared a fresh bottle and sat down on the sofa feeding her.  
And when he was done Sherlock returned and sat opposite of him on the coffee-table. He just looked at him. John cleared his throat.  
“I want to thank you for taking care of both Rosamund and me, Sherlock. I drank myself into a stupor and I am scared to death because of it. You know of Harry and I have told you about my father once. I don’t want to end up like them, I really don’t. Please, can you forgive me?” Sherlock seriously looked into his eyes.  
“Yes, I can, John. I don’t want to lose you. I believe it was a one-time-only and that it won’t happen again.”  
“I promise.” Sherlock smiled a very small smile and stood.  
“You haven’t made coffee?” John shook his head.  
“No, I only had tea and some buttered toast. But I can make you breakfast?” He offered at once to make it better.  
“You should eat some more, too. I actually ordered food yesterday evening but Mycroft ate yours.”  
“I couldn’t have eaten anyway. Why was Mycroft here?”  
“He wanted to check on us. Well, of you and the baby. No, actually he wanted to check out Greg. They left together.”  
“You are just the kind of gossip-girl, Sherlock.” John could smile a little again.  
“It was rather amazing, my brother was. He was holding Rosamund like he held me or so he told me. I can tell Greg liked the sight, too.”  
“So, both your brother and Greg were here while I was out upstairs? I can only remember you being very, very upset and angry. I somehow remember Greg helping me into bed. I also remember me crying and not sleeping.” He exhaled strongly and shook his head.  
“Probably I should call them and tell them I am sorry.” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, perhaps you should.” John looked at his daughter and Sherlock looked at John.  
“I don’t mean to be rude, John, but there are certain things needed to be taken care of today.” John closed his eyes.  
“You aren’t rude, Sherlock. I know it. May I ask for your support? Would you come along?” He hopefully looked up at him.  
“Of course, I am coming along. Whatever you need, John.” He leaned forward and gently placed his hand on his arm. John cast his eyes but smiled.  
***  
Mycroft walked up to his car followed by Greg. His driver opened the door for him and they sat down. Greg moved his palm over the soft leather and inconspicuously scanned the interior.  
“Would you like another drink, Gregory?” Suddenly Mycroft was very close when Greg looked up. He carefully moved a bit back and cleared his throat.  
“Yes?” His eyes followed Mycroft’s hands when he pressed a button. A bar came up from the depths of the car and it was fully stocked. His eyes widened.  
“Wow!” Greg was excited and leaned forward again. Mycroft was amused and poured drinks.  
“Cheers!” Mycroft said and handed over the tumbler. Greg took it and their fingers touched.  
“Thank you.” Both men felt it and they looked at each other. Mycroft smiled and so did Greg.  
“This is surprisingly nice.” Greg suddenly said.  
“Yes, it is.” Mycroft didn’t know what more to say. Greg knew how to handle the Holmes boys and just smiled.  
“So, why are we driving in a circle?” Greg leaned back into the seat and looked at him swirling his drink. Mycroft’s earlobes became red. He sincerely had hoped that Greg wouldn’t notice.  
“I wanted to talk to you without my brother present, Gregory.” Greg raised his brow.  
“Why? And please don’t call me Gregory.” He sipped his drink.  
“I didn’t want him to snicker and smirk at me. But it’s your given name. And I like it.”  
“Why would Sherlock do such things? Yes, I know it’s my given name but I don’t like it. I prefer Greg.” He sipped some more.  
“But if you insist?” He smiled his boyish smile and Mycroft shifted on the leather.  
“Anyway, I would like to get to know you better.” Mycroft looked at him and drank, too.  
“You mean you want to know everything that isn’t in my file?” Mycroft smiled.  
“No, there is everything there is to know about you in your file. I want to know you intimately so.”  
“Oh …” Greg downed his drink and helped himself to one more.  
“But if you don’t …” Mycroft tried to turn back the time but Greg just looked at him.  
“No, stop! It’s just, you know I am …” Mycroft stared at him.  
“I don’t care about the being-not-gay speech. Please try to be with me and you will see.”  
“As you know I have been married to my ex-wife for almost 15 years. We have no children. Guess why, Myc.”  
“Mycroft is my given name. Please use it. So, the being-gay part wouldn’t be a problem?”  
“I will call you Myc as long as you call me Gregory. And no, I don’t mind you being a man. I just wonder why …” Mycroft shrugged.  
“I needed some time to analyse the feelings I had and still have for you. I didn’t understand them at all, couldn’t analyse the feelings I have when you are around. Now I know.”  
“OK, I guess?” Greg was a bit clueless what to do now.  
“So, I am OK?” Mycroft asked and it was Greg who blushed now. He looked into his drink and then up at Mycroft again.  
“You are more than that, Myc. But let’s do this slowly. This is new and I want to savour it.” Mycroft smiled and moved closer. He reached out for Greg and placed his hand on his nape. Gently he used some pressure and forced him closer. Greg followed the pressure and soon their faces were only millimetres apart. Mycroft kissed him, just on the lips, and only very tender. Greg relaxed and closed his eyes.  
This felt somehow weird, different from before. Kissing men was different than kissing women. But it was surprisingly nice. Mycroft smelled of faint cigarette smoke and the whiskey he had just drunk. He was a fantastic kisser, Greg had to admit this. And he became bold and increased his moves. He also used his tongue and tried to get it between Greg’s lips.  
Greg tried to move away but was being held. He tried to say something and Mycroft used his chance and stuck his tongue into his mouth. It was like an explosion. Now he tasted of cake and chocolate, too. Greg moaned and relaxed. The tumbler fell from his hands but they didn’t care. He slung his arms around Mycroft and slowly moved his hands over his body. Mycroft’s grip became harder and stronger and his tongue became more demanding, too.  
Both men desperately touched and grabbed and stroked until Mycroft finally was able to push Greg down on the seat. He towered above him and stared into his eyes.  
“Mycroft Holmes, a fucking teen in the back of his car.” Greg grinned and Mycroft was lost.  
Somehow, they ended up at Mycroft’s place in Kensington. Greg got pulled upstairs into his bedroom and was pushed on the large four-poster.  
“Myc, I …” Again, he was snogged senseless. But when Mycroft was fumbling with his zip, he managed to push his hands out of the way. He rolled off to the side.  
“No, stop this at once!” Mycroft greedily looked at him.  
“But I thought …” Greg sat up against the headrest. He was hard and his cock tented his trousers.  
“I can’t just spread my legs for you, Myc. I have never been with a man.” He slowly shook his head.  
“For sure you never have been with a man with my taste.”  
“No, I mean it. I have never even kissed a man until we just did.” Now Mycroft stilled.  
“Oh, I … Apologies then.” He sat down, too. Greg reached out for his hand.  
“Don’t worry, Myc. We are fine. But you have to slow down. Please?” They looked at each other.  
“Then you should take over, Gregory.” Greg kissed his palm and wrist and it made him shudder.  
“First of all, I would like to know about your taste.” Greg said and Mycroft stood starting the pacing.  
“I might better show you.” He opened his drawer and got out a black box. He carried it back to the bed and placed it by Greg’s side.  
“Have a look inside and tell me. Just don’t run screaming and let me explain.”  
“So, someone ran screaming?” Mycroft didn’t answer and Greg slowly lifted the lid. Then he just stared for a bit and finally dared to rummage carefully. He put the lid back on top and placed it on the floor.  
“Well.” He cleared his throat.  
“Please explain how this works?” He asked.  
“I know it’s weird that I am feeling so shy about this because normally it works just fine. But you are special and I really want you. I would like to do this with you, to you. But I don’t have to if you don’t want to.”  
“So, you are telling me that I would have to bottom?” Now their eyes met.  
“Yes. I will be the one on top. I will tie you up and fuck you into oblivion.” Greg blushed; he really did.  
“What else?” He swallowed. And he was aroused.  
“I might gag you, blindfold you. I might also hit you with something. I can think of so many things I would like to do to you, Gregory.”  
“It sounds exciting …” Greg roughly whispered and unconsciously leant over to Mycroft who took his face between his hands and kissed him again. Greg melted into his arms and that night they did nothing more but kiss and touch.  
***  
John placed Rosamund in her pram in front of 221B. Sherlock stood by his side. He had agreed to walk instead of simply taking a cab. They were on their way to the funeral parlour Mycroft had recommended. It worked closely with the government and knew about everything. The manager was very surprised seeing someone bringing a baby in but since he had been briefed by Mycroft Holmes it was just ignored.  
He and John talked about everything necessary and Sherlock just stayed by his side. Just as he had promised. He was holding Rosamund while John was signing some papers.  
Being outside again he put her back in the pram and started to push it along.  
“Sherlock?” John suddenly said walking by his side. Sherlock looked at him but kept walking.  
“Yes, John? Do you need a break?” John just nodded and Sherlock found them a café where babies were welcome, too. Lots of people just looked at them but then smiled. They thought they were a couple. Sherlock liked the feeling. John didn’t notice.  
They sat down at a nice little table and John held Rosamund to his chest.  
“I’ll go and get us something. Hand me her bottle, they will surely heat it up for us.” John watched Sherlock leave for the counter and talk to the lady there. He was thankful for him being here, helping him. And he could be charming if he wanted something. Right now, he leaned half on the counter and smiled at the woman dangling the bottle in front of her. She broadly smiled and took it. Right away the expression on his face changed back into the normal Sherlock face.  
He finally returned with the bottle, two large coffees and one piece of cake for John. He shoved it over and took Rosamund instead.  
“Thank you, Sherlock.” John slowly started to eat but very quickly devoured the piece. He also drank his coffee. It did him good. He watched Sherlock feed his daughter and that was good, too.  
Suddenly he realised that he had never felt that way when watching Mary feeding their daughter. He slowly shook his head staring into nothing.  
He became aware of Sherlock’s stare a few minutes later and blushed a bit. Sherlock just smiled and handed her back.  
“Are you feeling better?” He asked.  
“Yes, I do. I promise it won’t happen again.” He quietly said moving the baby on his lap.  
“A strange behaviour after such an incident is quite understandable. We are good, John. I was just angry, so angry. I also was sad. I was afraid you could leave me, fade away. Or that you could do something very, very stupid.” John looked up and saw how vulnerable he was right now. He reached over the table and their hands entwined for a few seconds.  
Sherlock was happy about the fact that Mary would never again disturb their being together. He always had only been nice to her because he didn’t want to lose John. He would never tell.  
Now he only needed to convince John to stay at 221B with Rosamund. He would like that. He didn’t mind about having a child there. He could teach her a lot of things. They would have to change a lot inside the flat but it could work. John alone with his child was a thing way too dangerous. He would talk to him about his plans tonight during dinner.  
After the coffee-break they had to go to John’s bank, change the account John had with Mary back into a single one, prove the fact that she was dead by a piece of paper again and again until Sherlock said something rather rude to the bank-clerk and everything was finished within minutes. John was thankful.  
Some other minor things had to be arranged and Sherlock had taken over at some place with John just staying by his side providing the needed paper or his ID.  
On their way home John was limping and leant heavily on the pram's handle. Sherlock called a cab.  
Back home he placed John on the sofa and handed him a drink. It was just fine. He took care of the baby and placed her cleaned and with a new diaper on the blanket in front of them. Both men watched her.  
“Sherlock?” He looked at him and Sherlock looked back.  
“Yes?”  
“I know it’s quite the question but I need to ask. May I move back in with you? With Rosamund? Please?” Sherlock made the happy-dance right inside his mind-palace but his face was one of surprise.  
“What kind of question is that? Of course, you can! You are welcome and you know it.” John almost cried and then hugged him fiercely.  
“Thank you, Sherlock. Really.” He once sobbed but finally let go. Sherlock looked at him.  
“We should celebrate tonight.” Then his face darkened.  
“Sorry …” Sherlock cast his eyes. He hadn’t thought, as usual. Carefully he looked up again but John gave him a warm smile.  
“I know what you mean, Sherlock. It’s all fine. Don’t you ever worry again, OK?”  
“What would you like to do then? We could take Rosamund to Angelo?” John smiled.  
“That’s a rather nice idea. Angelo will like it.” Sherlock rubbed his hands.  
“Perfect. Let’s rest a bit until tonight, shall we?” John just looked at him.  
“You? You want to rest? Are you really feeling well?” Sherlock earlobes became a bit reddish.  
“I am feeling absolutely fine. I admit that I liked to have Rosamund in my bed. It felt so good. I was able to sleep without any disturbances. But surely you would like to have her with you, I can understand.”  
John had a fantasy. For just a second he saw all of them on Sherlock’s big bed. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth rushing through his body.  
Sherlock watched him closely and knew at once what he had been thinking of.  
“No, it’s fine. If you like to cuddle with her, please do so. I could use a nap upstairs.” Sherlock looked happy and it made John happy. He stayed until Sherlock had changed her and cleaned her up. Again, and again he was surprised how good Sherlock handled his baby. It was amazing. And if he had to admit it, it was also rather sexy, too.  
Suddenly Sherlock stood right in front of him.  
“John? Are you dreaming?” John blinked and looked up at him.  
“I am sorry. What did you want?” He cleared his throat.  
“I just told you that I will retire now with Rosamund. We are in my bedroom if you need me. Us.” They smiled and John just pecked a kiss on his baby’s head. Then each of them went into their room.  
***  
Greg slowly woke and stretched his body. He smiled with his eyes still closed. Then he suddenly shot up in bed and looked around. His eyes fell on a piece of paper on the pillow by his side. He picked it up and read it.  


Gregory, I’m in my office downstairs. Feel free to do whatever you desire. Kitchen is all yours. Not hungry.”  
MH

Greg raised his brows. But he stood and showered. He donned a rather new looking bathrobe which fit him perfectly well. Obviously Myc had thought of everything. He smiled again and walked downstairs to look for the kitchen.  
He was in awe. The kitchen was a dream and he was already planning to cook something. For now, he started on a breakfast with pancakes and things. When everything was ready and set up on the kitchen-table he looked for Myc. He heard him typing furiously and knocked on the door.  
“Yes!” Loud and angry but Greg didn’t mind and opened the door. Mycroft was dressed as immaculate as ever. He looked up at him and a slightly stressed expression showed on his face.  
“I made breakfast. Please come and sit with me. I believe you are in need of a break.” Slowly Greg came closer and Mycroft closed his tablet.  
“I am not hungry.” Mycroft was stubborn.  
“Did Sherlock get that attitude from big brother? Come on, just a pancake? Please?” Mycroft sighed but stood. Greg placed him on a chair and Mycroft stared at the heart-shaped pancake. He pressed his lips together. Greg tried to look into his face and then saw it. His eyes were wet. He was close to tears.  
Greg simply hugged him and didn't comment. Slowly Mycroft started to devour the pancake. Bite by bite he became faster and finally ate toast and eggs, too.  
When they were done, he leaned back and looked at Greg.  
“Thank you. I am not used to this and it is surprisingly nice.” Greg smiled.  
“I am glad to hear that.” Greg kept looking. Mycroft somehow felt compelled to say more.  
“I also liked the pancake. And its shape. It was a heart.” He felt his ears redden. He had stated the obvious. Carefully he looked up at Greg again.  
“You are adorable. I had no idea.” Greg's smile was heart-warming. He stood and leaned over the table. His palm was on Mycroft's neck and then he just kissed him. Mycroft melted into the kiss not knowing what was happening to him.  
***  
Sherlock slowly woke because Rosie was moving by his side. She had managed to pull off her socks and was busy grabbing her toes. She happily gurgled and drooled all over her little face. Sherlock rubbed over his eyes and smiled. Then he listened into the flat and heard John clutter in the kitchen. He looked at his watch and found it was dinner time again.  
“He surely wants me to eat again, baby-girl.” He moved his finger over her tummy making her squeak. The sound made John knock on his door and open it. His eyes were on Sherlock.  
“There you are. You must have been tired.” He smiled watching him. Sherlock always wondered if he overstepped something when handling Rosamund. But obviously he didn't because John kept smiling. So, he just shrugged.  
“She calms me down. Her smell does. Everything is so peaceful.” Thoughtfully he looked at her wriggling his fingers.  
“You are good with her. I never would have thought but you are.” John leaned against the wooden frame.  
“Perhaps I am some sort of hidden mutant mother?” Sherlock mused. It made John bark out a laugh.  
“Perhaps?” He turned away laughing quietly. Sherlock smiled. He picked her up and moved over into the living-room where he placed her on the blanket. She wasn't happy about it. Suddenly there was John by his side.  
“Daddy has to take a shower, Rosie. Behave.” She looked at him and smiled again. Sherlock stared at John who had just called him daddy. John suddenly noticed Sherlock’s unmoving body and looked up at him. He tilted his head.  
“But you are, aren't you?” Then he turned his back on him and went back into their kitchen.  
Sherlock almost floated into the bath and shed his clothes on the way. A stupid smile was plastered on his face and a weird feeling was in his guts. He lathered his hair several times without noticing it. He dressed into comfy clothes afterwards and was hit by the smell of pasta and cheese when returning. His stomach rumbled. He was rather happy about the fact that he didn't have to leave their flat to go to Angelo's. Instead John had cooked Italian and Sherlock could just sit right here.  
Rosie made unhappy noises because no one paid her any attention. At once Sherlock moved over and picked her up.  
“You will spoil her, Sherlock.” John said. Sherlock carried her up to counter and sat her on top of it leaning back against it.  
“So what? Then you will have to take care of two spoiled brats.” John looked over his shoulder raising a brow.  
“You know, we need to think of re-arranging the flat.” Sherlock looked at him.  
“I already have plans. I just wanted to wait until you are ready.” John cast his eyes.  
“I am now.” Sherlock looked at him.  
“So, I see.” John returned the gaze. No one said anything until Rosamund slammed her tiny hands on the surface.  
“She can't be hungry again, can she?” Sherlock wondered.  
“No, she just wants attention. As I said before ...”  
“Yes, I did spoil her. But it felt right to do so. I don't know ...” John smiled.  
“Don't worry. It's all fine. You did splendidly when I couldn't.” John stirred the pasta and finally filled the bowls.  
“I tried my very best. I searched the internet. I googled for hours. I mean, I managed folding serviettes, so I thought I should be able to change a baby.”  
“You did so much more. You fed her, you took care of her, you … God, Sherlock, you were everything I wasn't.” John slammed the bowl on the table. His head almost stuck between his shoulders. He was tense and then he started to shake. Sherlock just stared and then hoisted Rosie up on his left to pull John into his right.  
“Hush, John. It's understandable. And you are back now. So, don't look into the past and concentrate on the future. Rosie needs you. I need you.” Tears fell from John's eyes when he looked back up at Sherlock cradling Rosie to his body.  
“God, I love you so much ...”


End file.
